


A Christmas Carol on Cherry Tree Lane

by TypicalRAinbow



Category: A Christmas Carol - Charles Dickens, Mary Poppins - All Media Types, Mary Poppins - P. L. Travers
Genre: Christmas, Gen, Inspired by A Christmas Carol, Musical References, Old Work Made New, Parody, Sad with a Happy Ending
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-27
Updated: 2018-12-27
Packaged: 2019-09-28 07:18:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,212
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17178386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TypicalRAinbow/pseuds/TypicalRAinbow
Summary: Tis the season to be jolly! But somebody has been a Scrooge and Mr Banks is in for the shock of a life time. Can Mary Poppins save tomorrow or will this tale end up another Christmas Turkey? A Mary Poppins twist on Dicken's A Christmas Carol. Rewrite and Update! Posted on Fanfiction in 2009 and not updated since 2011 I wanted to make a start on finishing it.





	1. Getting into the Christmas Sprit

**Author's Note:**

> A Christmas Carol on Cherry Tree Lane was originally posted on Fan-fiction in 2009 and not updated since 2011. I wanted to make a start on finishing it. 
> 
> Rewrites and edits in progress as well as fixing a lot of previously unchecked spellings mistakes. 
> 
> It’s a bit sappy to start with and a lil OoC, but it’s Christmas so I thought what the heck and just did it 
> 
> Disclaimer: I own nothing but this story which will earn me nothing but Christmas cheer. Neither Mary Poppins nor A Christmas Carol are mine. There are however a few quotes from each scattered around in this.
> 
> Mostly Movie, but with a little musical, book and now Mary Poppins returns touches here and there.

Last year Metropolis published a rather awesome HELLSING style Christmas Carol were a grump of a vampire got his comeuppance (I‘ll send you the link if your interested). This inspired me to do a Mary Poppins version and although I might not be into HELLSING as much as I once was, I still reckon he deservers a round of applause for his writing skills :D 

As its quite long, I’m going to aim for a update every few days so the final instalment is in time for the big day its self, wish me luck  It’s a bit sappy to start with and a lil OoC, but it’s Christmas so I thought what the heck and just did it 

Disclaimer: I own nothing but this story which will earn me nothing but Christmas cheer. Neither Mary Poppins nor A Christmas Carol are mine. There are however a few quotes from each scattered around in this.

Mostly Movie, but with a little musical and book touches here and there. 

 Enjoy

Chapter One: Getting in to the Christmas sprit

"T’was the night before Christmas and all though the Banks' house, such a racket was going on, between cook, maid and spouse..." Admiral Boom sung into the cold night air, as the heated argument from the back of number seventeen continued to ring out down the street.

"Especially from the Kitchen, sir!" his shipmate above him laughed, rearranging the strings of decorations rapped around the masts.   
“Indeed, indeed!” the admiral replied before spotting in his telescope a familiar figure across the street, half hidden behind a heaving shopping bag. Anyone else might have struggled or looked to be struggling with weight and weather. But Mary Poppins nanny of the Banks Children was to proud for such trivial things to bother her. 

“Merry Christmas Ms Poppins!”  
“Merry Christmas too you Admiral. and too you Boston.” the nanny called.   
“Thank you misses! Good luck with getting the lil ‘uns to sleep tonight with that storm goin’ on!” the first mate loudly replied. Mary Poppins acknowledged it with a nod that seemed to say, ‘thank you but I can handle it’ and entered the little house of her employers…

"Michael, shush they'll hear us." Jane winched as her brother tried to jimmy open the kitchen door to watch proceedings better.  
“You shush!” He snapped. “I don't think they’d even hear Admiral Boom‘s cannon-"

"Nor can you apparently. Michael Jane that’s enough spying, thank you.” their nanny warned, as she navigated around the mass of decorations still filling the hall, with a box of gingerbread in one hand and a box sugar-canes in the other.   
“I wasn’t doing anything.” Jane pouted.  
“Then your hands are free to hold these while I take my coat off.” the nanny replied, giving each a bag and made jane squeal in delight as the nanny popped her hat on the charges head and her a scarf over Michael’s while she undid her coat. “Now are you two going to help me decorate the tree, or would you rather sit there like frogs on a lily-pad and listen to Ellen and cook arguing over the sprouts?”

The children obeyed and hurried from the kitchen door, taking a box each, neither sure how she’d entered without them hearing the door open or shut.   
“I was only wondering what would be for dinner tomorrow…” Michael grumbled, wondering if the nanny would notice if one of the little biscuit men went missing.  
“I’m sure you were, Michael, your eyes are bigger than your stomach.” Mary Poppins said sternly hanging up her hat and scarf. She softened though as the children set to work. “And you can each have gingerbread at supper, but not before.”

The snow was beginning to fall. Although it was too late for them to go and play, Mary Poppins promised that if the snow had settled over night, she would take them to the park on Boxing Day, even if it was the second Tuesday. The children continued happily with their decorating, excited even more by this, so by the time their mother entered the parlour they quite giddy with delight and began skip around her singing something that sounded like ‘God rest ye Gerry Mental-men’.

“Slow down my dears, you’re making me dizzy.” Mrs Banks laughed, picking up a box and, revealing a rather ugly figurines and began to arrange them on the table into groups of angels, shepherds, kings and the holy family. “Mary Poppins, how did it go? Did you manage, what with it being Christmas eve and early closing?”

“Yes, Mrs Banks. I got everything on Mrs Brills list.” came the reply, as Mary Poppins pinned two bright red woollen stockings labelled M and J to the mantle. “If she and Ellen have finished hurling abuse at one another I’ll go take the bags though to them.”

“Oh fantastic, thank you that’s so very sweet of you!” Mrs Banks said, beaming at the nanny.  
Mary Poppins smiled not at all modest at the compliment and left the room. the children exchanged grins as the well worn nativity set suddenly returned to its former glory, as if by magic. 

“Ellen must have fixed Gabriel’s wing.” their mother mused when she turned back to table and re-aligned one of the lambs before smiling down at her children. “The tree looks lovely by the way, darlings. Are you nearly finished?”

“Almost Mother.” Michael answered, standing on tip toe to hand the last glass ornament on the tree and stood back to admire their handy work. Jane clapped but Mrs Banks noticed something peculiar.

“The top’s a little bare isn’t it?” she asked quietly, not wanting to offend the children but Michael shook his head and laughed.

“Of Corse its bare, Mother. We haven’t put the star on yet.”  
“Oh…”  
"But we never put star on until Father gets home." Jane frowned noticing her mother’s expression. “We never, ever put it on without him.”

“I know my dears,” Mrs Banks sighed and sat down on the settee, pulling her little darlings close. “But you know as well as I do that your father will be late tonight. Far later then you two ort to be up.” 

The children sighed and mewed sadly, cuddling up to their mother. Mrs Banks sat there and cuddled them back, quite content in their company. In fact it wasn’t until the clock in the hall began to chime the hour that she reluctantly sat up and gently prized the little ones off her. 

“Now off to bed, my darlings."  
"But Mother-" Jane started then turned to the nanny who’d been stood in the doorway, "Mary Poppins tell her we can stay up until father gets home." But rather then agree with her charges, the nanny stood firm as usual.

"I will do no such thing. You heard you mother, now bed.” Mary Poppins said, folding her arms. “Perhaps if you asked her nicely, I shall wake you when your father gets home."

Normally this tone would convince the two and they would be putty in her hands but tonight, Jane and Michael began to whimper, whine and pout, listing off any excuse they could.

"I won’t be able to sleep if we don’t put the star on the tree!"  
"And we can’t go to bed with out seeing Father!"  
"It’s not fair!”  
“And it’s tradition!”  
“If Jane’s not going to bed I’m not going to bed!”  
“I’m not even tired!”

They continued like this until the nanny silenced them by holding up a finger. As a rule, Mary Poppins wouldn’t think twice about this behaviour. but tonight, she turned to her employer for an opinion.

“What do you propose, Mrs Banks?”

“Well it is past their bed time,” Winifred answered, surprised to be asked. She was trying her best to be firm, but the looks on her young ones little faces was making it very hard. “But George would be terribly upset if he missed the children. And it is a tradition I suppose.” 

Jane batted her eyelashes as Michael put on his best smile and Mrs Banks felt her resolve crumble completely. 

“Oh I suppose it wouldn’t hurt if they were up for a little while longer!” 

Thankfully the nanny didn’t seem to mind.

“Very well Ma’am.” Mary Poppins smiled before turning to her charges. “But they must at get bathed and dressed for bed first and foremost. If you are needed to be carried up to bed because you’ve fallen asleep, I will not have it in your dress and shirt.” Jane and Michael grinned in delight and hurried for the nursery. 

“Aren’t you forgetting something?”

The two of them paused half way up the stairs then dashed back, flinging their arms around Mrs Banks.   
“Thank you Mother!” they coursed, each giving her a kiss on the cheek.  
“You’re more than welcome my dears.” She smiled as they turned and began to hurry the nanny upstairs to get ready for bed, the one time of the year when they would be excited by the daily routine.

And so it was that the evening flew by. Bath suds became snow in the children’s minds, while tea was served out to the four ladies. When they’d made sure A Glass of sherry and two plates containing carrots and mince pies had been prepared for a certain someone, Jane and Michael offered to help Ellen and Cook with the remaining tasks left to do before dawn. 

Jane set about with Ellen to lay the table and her mother to pick out a dress while Michel helped in the kitchen, (under Mary Poppins guidance) to peel potatoes and chop carrots, anything to keep them busy. So much so, that when it came to nine o‘clock, the children were (as Mary Poppins had correctly said they would) indeed feeling rather more then a little tired. Ellen stoked up the fire and she and Mrs Brill proceeded to tell ghost stories until the nanny had sent them scurrying back to the kitchen with a withering look for making the children hide behind the sofa in fright.

By half past, Jane and Michel were calm again and nearly asleep. It was certainly easier to keep control of the children at this time of year, even if it was only temporary. All one would need to do remind them of how only good children got presents. Michael hadn’t even complained when Mary Poppins refused him to cook chestnuts on the fire by himself, for fear he might get burnt. They knelt quietly by the fire side, while Jane sat on curled up the couch with Mrs Banks.

“Mother,” the girl said sleepily, “do you think when we have the star on our tree; the wise men will come here?”  
“Maybe Jane.” Her mother laughed softly stroking the little girl’s hair.

“I hope they bring a new train set if they do.” Michael yawned clambering up on to his father’s chair. “Mine’s broken and I sure it’ll be a lot more use then Frankie- franking-”

“Frankincense.” Mary Poppins corrected and began turning over the chestnuts with a toasting fork, as though regretting the intrusion on a private moment between mother and daughter. The room fell quiet again, aside for the crackle of flames until Mrs Banks broke the silence.

“Mary Poppins, what’s your family doing this Christmas?”  
The nanny made a noncommittal hum. 

“Bert says everyone’s going to Uncle Albert’s for dinner,” Jane grinned. “And that Mrs Corry is cooking it.”   
“Are you going to have it on the ceiling, Mary Poppins?” Michael asked his eyes half closed.  
“On the ceiling?” Mrs Banks giggled. “Oh you children have such wonder imaginations, don’t you agree Mary Poppins?”

Mary Poppins didn’t have chance to answer. The front door suddenly swung open with a snap, making every one jump. Ellen scurried out from the kitchen and tried to help the master of the house while Mrs Banks untangled herself from her daughter and hurrying them both into the hall.

“Ellen please! I am more than capable of taking off a coat by myself. Just Hang it up.” Mr Banks grumbled. 

“Good evening, George!” His wife beamed, giving him a peck on the cheek. “I was being to wonder whether they’d ever let out tonight!”  
“Welcome home father,” his daughter giggled, fastening herself around his middle.   
“Yes yes, good evening to you dear….Young lady, what are you still doing down here?” He said addressing Jane. 

Michael sleepily padded out from parlour, dropping his nanny’s hand to join his sister at their father’s side. “Allow me to rephrase that, what are you Two still doing up?”

“We were waiting up for you father.” Michel said, as Mr Banks prized them off him. “We had ghost stories, and ginger bread and Mary Poppins was just going to tell us about having Christmas dinner on the ceiling-!”  
“We had a lovely time! And we saved you the star for you to put on the tree,” Jane agreed, then noted her father’s expression and mumbled, “We thought you’d be pleased…” 

“Did you really? And who I wonder gave you permission to stay up?”   
“Well I-” His wife started but was cut off.

“I did, Mr Banks.”

“Now why doesn’t that surprise me?” Mr Banks muttered, his glare toward the nanny intensifying. “I have had enough of this nonsense. Off all three of you!” He snapped at the Mrs Brill and the Scullery maid who were hovering by the kitchen door. “I see no point in paying your wages when it’s clear none of you do your duty.”

“Mary Poppins,” Mrs Banks said. “Perhaps you should take the children up to nursery.” 

The nanny nodded and steered her charges upstairs. “Come along you two, spit spot. I’m sure Mrs Brill will put the mice pie and sherry for Father Christmas to find.”  
“But-”  
“Jane, I said you could stay up until your father came home. now he‘s home, I think it’s high time for bed, don‘t you?”   
“But-”  
“The star can wait till morning Michael.”  
“But-”

“Mary Poppins, I am not finished speaking!” Mr Banks barked, making everyone jump again. “You and I need a serious word. Jane Michael, upstairs.”

Jane and Michael obeyed and indeed headed upstairs. Granted, they didn’t actually go into the nursery, but stayed huddled on landing, so they had done exactly what they were told too. Their father didn’t notice anyway. he was too busy destroying the happy mood of the evening, right there in the hall.

“Mary Poppins this is indeed the last straw. I am extremely disappointed in you.” He stated at the nannies impassive face. “I don’t deny that I am to a degree loosely responsible for allowing the children to spend their day on worthless frivolity, but this exactly the sort of nonsense I’ve been trying to stamp out of the pair of them!”   
“But George they’re only children.”  
“Winifred, I am aware of their ages but it is high time they learnt the seriousness of life and in light of what has happened…” He paused for effect, only to be faced with a mask of indifference.

“I think that tomorrow morning, Ms Poppins should find another household to disrupt.”

For a moment Mary Poppins looked quite shocked. A very quick moment. But she didn’t even have the grace to ask him to reconsider, despite the uproar that suddenly came from all corners of the room.

“No! No you can’t! I won‘t let you!”  
“You can’t throw her out on Christmas sir!”  
“Mary Poppins, please stay!”  
“Oh come on sir, be fair-!”  
“George, think of the children-”

But Mr Banks silenced them.  
“Winifred I am thinking of the children. Jane, Michael get to bed. and Ellen, Mrs Brill your more then welcome to find another placement but if not, I suggest you get back to the kitchen and find something else to do!” He turned back to the nanny, her lack of response angering him further. 

“I am disturbed to find My children up at almost ten o’clock, snacking on gingerbread and on top of that, chattering about having luncheon on the ceiling! I want no more nonsense in this house. They need discipline and order. They need to know that there is will be no Christmas dinner on the ceiling, that a bed time is a time for bed and there is no such thing as ghosts as silly stories or as Father Christmas!”

At this the Mary Poppins’ eyes went as round as saucers. and in one swift movement she was up the stairs.

“Well that’s hardly a civil way to end matters!” Mr Banks called up after her, as the nursery door slammed shut. He turned and crossed the empty hall into the parlour. Ignoring the decorations he poured himself a whisky and sat in his chair. There the master of the house began to read the evening paper, secretly smug he‘d finally won against Mary Poppins for a change. 

Had Mr Banks being paying attention to the all members of his house hold, instead just the nanny, he would have seen not one but six pairs of eyes go wide. and five other not-so-practically perfect jaws drop at this remark. Mr Banks didn’t see on the landing his son and daughter’s faces suddenly crumple before the pair bolted to the nursery. Nor did he notice his wife dash upstairs after the children along with the nanny; the latter’s feet not even touching the floor as she swept up the stair. He didn’t even hear the mutterings of the kitchen staff as they returned to kitchen, aghast at what they’d seen and heard.

George Banks noticed none of this, because, as everyone knows, a Christmas Grinch notices nothing past the end of their nose…


	2. The Apparition at the Window

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A Christmas Carol on Cherry Tree Lane was originally posted on Fan-fiction in 2009 and not updated since 2011. I wanted to make a start on finishing it.
> 
> Rewrites and edits in progress as well as fixing a lot of previously unchecked spellings mistakes.
> 
> It’s a bit sappy to start with and a lil OoC, but it’s Christmas so I thought what the heck and just did it
> 
> Disclaimer: I own nothing but this story which will earn me nothing but Christmas cheer. Neither Mary Poppins nor A Christmas Carol are mine. There are however a few quotes from each scattered around in this.
> 
> Mostly Movie, but with a little musical, book and now Mary Poppins returns touches here and there.

2) Apparition by the window

a little while later, Bert shimmed up the drain pipes of 17 Cherry-tree Lane. Any other night would have Bert stinted across the roof tops and shimmed down the drain pipes of 17 Cherry-tree Lane. But today he’d been working as a postie, as well as selling hot chestnuts in between. So, for a change he had to park up his borrowed bicycle and shimmed up the drain pipes instead. he’d half guessed as he peeked through the nursery window, that the Banks children wouldn’t be dreaming of sugar plums and mice, but wide awake, too excited to sleep. After all, it was Christmas Eve and it was only to be expected.

Perhaps if they were up anyway, Mary Poppins might be inclined to take him, Jane and Michael on an adventure…

What he hadn’t expected to see however was Jane and Michael cuddled up between not only Mary Poppins, but none other than Winifred Banks. For a split-second Bert thought what a beautiful little scene it was before he realized something was wrong. There was no bedtime story. Or Mrs Banks just spending some quality time with kids.

The closed window stopped him from hearing clearly but something truly terrible must have happened. Michael turned around and Bert now saw he was in floods of tears despite his mother’s efforts to sooth him. meanwhile while the usually chatty Jane now sat quiet and still, huddled up to the nanny, looking so crest-fallen, that even Bert felt the Christmas cheer ebb away as his heart went out to them, all intent of possibly maybe if he was luck wishing Mary Poppins a Merry Christmas under the mistletoe disappearing.

Bert tried as stealthily as he could to slide towards the window, wondering how to cheer the children up but Mary Poppins caught his eye over the little girl’s shoulder and shook her head. How the nanny had known he was there he wasn’t sure, but Bert decided now was not the time to argue. All this sadness was last thing he’d wanted for her and the children but unfortunately it this was one of those very few and far between times when the sometimes a sweep felt there was nothing he could do, other than wait outside the nursery window, like a Peter Pan would for his Wendy.

After a while Mary Poppins eased Jane off her lap and appeared to swap places with her employer, taking her turn to attempt of calming the young boy while Mrs Banks tucked Jane into bed. Presently Michael curled up to sleep in the nanny’s arms. She swept him up with ease and carried him over to the bed. The covers folded back by themselves and Mary Poppins folded the duvet over Michael, Mrs Banks was still knelt by Jane’s side as the little girl also drifted off. She stroked the girl’s hair before rising and stood in front the fire place her eyes shining, while the nanny straightened the children’s covers and switched off the nightlight. Judging by the elder woman’s expression, the children weren’t the only upset ones.

Mrs Banks said something, the windowpanes silencing whatever it was she’d said as she turned back to the nanny. Mary Poppins shook her head and replied, though Bert noticed the nannies sparkle seemed too had dimmed; so, whatever it was that’d occurred with the Banks family had obviously struck a chord with her too. He might not be the sharpest tool of the trade, but Bert didn’t need to hear her voice to work that one out.

Mrs Banks continued speaking, becoming more animated, her hands stiffly wringing one another, tugging on her clothes or twirling and cutting the air. Mary Poppins however remained rather still and quiet as usual only watching as her employer begin to pace about. Letting his curiosity get the better of him, Bert inched closer and nudged the window open a little, catching the end of whatever it was Mrs Banks was going on about.

“And on Christmas Eve as well! Why?”  
“I’m not quite sure Ma’am.”  
“I just don’t understand how he could have been so beastly.” Mrs Banks said. Bert was surprised the children hadn’t woken up, the fuss she was making. He was even more surprised when Mrs Banks grabbed the nanny’s hand. “Oh Mary Poppins, I’ll have word with George, I’m sure he didn’t mean it. The children missed you terribly last time!”  
“He made it quite clear he meant it,” the nanny replied, somewhat awkwardly patted her employers’ hands and turned back to her sleeping charges. “And he made it quite clear it was for Jane and Michael’s sake.”

“They were so looking forward to finding their stockings filled.” Mrs Banks started softly following the nannies gaze. “I mean they will be of course but that’s not the point. He’s never, ever been as- as- well like this or anything of that sort, but I don’t understand why he- he…”  
Mrs Banks was also in tears now and Bert watched as she hurried out of the nursery. Mary Poppins also watched her go, closing the door behind her, then snapped her fingers. The window opened sharply, and Bert tumbled in to the room. 

“Happy Christmas Bert.” she said as greeting, sounding anything but happy.  
“And to you.” Bert replied striating up, quietly shutting the window, taking in the sight of the troubled nursery and its nanny. 

“Don‘t worry, they won‘t wake up.” Mary Poppins told him, confirming his suspicions that Jane and Michael would sleep sound. “No one can hear us.”  
“What’s happened?” Bert asked quietly.  
“A disaster.” she said plainly, still gazing at children. “And not so much what. As who…” Mary Poppins said nothing more and began to tidy up the nursery leaving Bert pondering, leaning against the window sill. 

“I’m guessing…” he said eventually, “That Mr George Banks Esquire told them that Father Christmas doesn’t exist.”  
“Indeed. They’re too young to be told so bluntly.” the nanny sniffed holding her head held high, then murmured. “He might hate me, but he has no right to upset the children like that.”

“Golly…He certainly has knack for timing.” her friend sighed, as the nanny folded one of Michael’s shirts by hand and tucked it into one of the drawers. “Hang on, what’d he say to you?”  
“Hmm? Oh…” She shook her head. “It doesn’t matter now.”  
“It does. Least to me it does an’ I really mean that, Mary.” Bert said seriously. “What happened?”

The sweep wasn’t sure whether it was the tone in his voice, the fact she’d needed someone to turn to or just that he’d called he’d called by her first name, but Mary Poppins sighed… and began to explain to him all about the night’s events. Bert was surprised she’d relented so easily, but his surprise turned to shock as the nanny neared the end of her tale.

“He didn’t!”   
“He did,” she corrected. “He then said ‘that’s hardly a civil way to end matters’…which is true I suppose. It wasn’t civil in the least.”  
“But he can’t! Mary Poppins, you’ve done so much for these kids! You can‘t be sacked-” Bert babbled, running his hand though his hair in frustration. Or he would but he still had his cap on.

“I was more concerned about the children’s Christmas being ruined.” Mary Poppins sighed shaking her head, making Bert realize he‘d never seen her look so rejected. “And it seems I can be.”

They stood in silence for moment before Bert felt the rare bubble of anger inside. He made for the nursery door, but the nanny fixed him with a look which fixed him to the ground.   
“Bert, don’t you dare.”  
“But He can’t-”  
“He has. So be it.”  
“But it’s Christmas! He can‘t do this! Not to you Mary Poppins, I won’t let him! Please I swear I‘ll only talk to him-”  
“Bert, just... stay here.”

The fierce look had softened but so had Bert. He could never miss the pleading tone in her voice, not matter how hard she covered it. Bert felt the urge to pull the nanny in to a tight hug and sprit her away from what he believed must be a living nightmare for her. Instead he made do with taking her hand and giving it a gentle squeeze. Mary Poppins held it, not teasingly pulling away like she usually did. Again, they stood in silence, but Bert wanted to reassure her still.  
“Look I’m sorry, Mary Poppins. It’s just, I can’t believe he’d be such a scrooge …I mean you know, all the work you do, and how much you help everyone, and I just wanted to-”

“Wait, Bert” the nanny interrupted. “Say that again.”  
“Err well, I said I was sorry, and that Banks was an old S-Sc…” the sweep faulted but found he couldn’t continue. This didn’t seem to matter to the nanny, her eyes suddenly sparkling. The room suddenly seem a whole lot brighter and the fire seemed to crackle madly. Out of the corners of his vision, Bert swore he saw the nursery toys move as though whispering to one another. Then, Mary Poppins smiled.

Bert ducked as a hardback came shooting off the children‘s bookcase, narrowly avoiding his ear. Mary Poppins caught it in a waiting hand and flicked though the thin volume. Despite her speed it appeared she was absorbing every word, studying each and every page intently for moment before turning to next before closing it with a snap.

“Bert, would you be so kind please as get on your bicycle and fetch Uncle Albert, please? I think we may be able to fix this mess…”


	3. At Death's Dawe

The clock in hall was just chiming half past ten when George Banks put down his paper. He shivered. It seemed awfully drafty, as though someone had deliberately left a widow open. He prodded the smoldering coals and chestnuts to no avail and decided he might as well go to bed. He got out of his chair, stretched, and sniffed in a disgruntled manner… then stopped short. Smoke. He could smell smoke. 

“What the Dickens…” her muttered and rushed as fast as man his age could into the dimly lit hall. 

Smoke was seeping out from kitchen door, slipping though the gaps between the door frames and leaking though the key hole. He was about to call out an alarm when the door flung open. Mr Banks leapt back with a yelp of surprise. A towering white figure appeared for a split second…

Before the kitchen door slammed back in the apparition’s face, having bounced off the wall and swung heavily back on its hinges.  
Mr Banks composed himself and frowned as a muffled string of rather unladylike expletives came from behind the door, along with what seemed to be muttering. Cockney sounding muttering. 

His frown deepened as the door opened again to reveal, not one but two familiar whitened figures. As first one was still rubbing its now bruised nose, the slightly smaller of the two stepped forward, her boots clicking against the tiled floor.

“Beware Mr Banks!” it moaned, her arms waving like seaweed, Black and sooty smog was curing around the pair. “Oooh Beware. Beeewaaaare…!”  
“Beware? Beware of what?” Mr Banks grumbled folding its arms. The apparition’s face fell and began to fumble with its words.  
“Beware...of…um…”  
“Of the eyes of March.” the other ghost finished bluntly. The other shot it a look but the ghost continued, it‘s voice becoming deeper and more chilling, jabbing its finger at Mr Banks. “If you continue to live a life of misery, within a fortnight you’ll be all alone, your dear children will hate, Mrs Banks will leave you for a chimney sweep and month later you’ll be dead as a post, a door nail and a do-do! Just like us, like us I tell you-”

“But you two are not dead,” Mr Banks said rolling his eyes.  
“May be not dearie, but you bloomin’ treat us like we are sometimes!” the apparition snapped back, before receiving an elbow from her colleague. “I mean, Beware Mr Banks Beware!”  
“Repent while you still can, sir!” the other cried. “Repent or beware-”

“I’ll repent you two in a moment if you don’t stop wailing at me this instant Ellen!” Banks threatened. “Enough! just what on earth do you think you doing? No wait don’t tell me-” he snapped holding up a hand to silence the maid’s cockney whining. 

“You thought by fooling around with smoke tricks and howling like banshees, you’d scare me into agreeing with whatever nonsensical plan you’ve cooked up between you and that Poppins woman!” 

Mrs Brill, who’d been wiping the flour from her hair and her face, made to protest but Mr Banks cut across her. “And will you put that fire out this instant, before you burn the house down. Get out my sight the pair of you,” Mr Banks barked gruffly. 

“Why do I even bother employing you as staff, I’ll never know.” he grumbled under his breath.

“Now that attitude, Banks,” a voice wheezed behind him. “Will make you a giant in the world of banking one day…”  
Mr Banks gulped and turned around, coming face to face, with none other than the late Elder Mr. Dawes. 

“I must be dreaming.” Banks told himself aloud, then addressed the once- chairman. “In moment sir, I shall be awake, and you’ll be gone.” 

“Fiddle sticks, boy! Didn’t your mother ever teach you to know the difference between awake and sleep?” the elder scoffed, turning too Mrs Brill and Ellen. “More importantly didn’t yours ever tell you to respect the dead? All that confernal racket, I couldn‘t make myself heard!”  
The two ‘ghosts’ stood open mouthed, backing away towards the kitchen, shaking with fright and pointing at the elder Mr Dawes. “Don’t you know it’s rude to point? Close your mouths, ladies, I’m not going to hurt you.” he grumbled waving his stick at them. “I’m here to give a warning to this godforsaken banker -”

“A warning?” Mr Banks gasped. “what on earth for?” 

The old man turned back to him, coughed and stroked his wispy white beard.

“Earlier to night, you entered your house, greeted you wife, sent your children up to bed and fired their nanny, without so much as merry Christmas.” He said his voice as creaky as it ever was. “Do you deny it?”   
“Well, I thought, that is…”  
“I said do you deny it Banks?!”  
“No, I don’t sir. But I had good reason to I assure you-.” 

But Mr Dawes cut him off, his face a picture of annoyance and disappointment.

“Confound it Banks!” he rasped. “I thought you’d learnt your lesson long ago, but it’s just gone in on ear and straight out the other! Telling your children on Christmas Eve there’s no such thing as Father Christmas. Why of all the silly, cheerless things to do-!” 

“But with all due respect sir, there’s no such thing as you, either!” Mr Banks snapped. Judging from his glare, Mr Dawes was not impressed.

“No such thing as me?” He growled. “No such thing as me! You’re a mad man, Banks! What have you got to say for yourself?”  
“I’ll say…” Mr Banks replied. “That you do not exist and even if you did, you are nothing more than a man in a suit. Either way you don’t frighten me!”   
“Oh really?” Mr Dawes laughed. “Tell me Banks, if I am nothing more than a man in a suit how can I do this?”  
With that he flung his arms wide and began to rise slowly into the air. Shadows curled and stretched around the room, and that draft became a chill.

“Do I frighten you yet Banks?” Mr Dawes boomed jabbing his cane rather painfully at the astounded Mr Banks. “Are you sure you’re not awake?”  
“N-no,” Mr Banks lied, “No you do not, and I am!”

With identical shrieks of fright, both domestics finally fled the hall as the ghost rose higher and higher, laughing as he went. 

“You’re a fool, Banks! Even those two have more sense then you! Are you frightened yet? Are you still sure you’re asleep? ” 

His head scrapped the top of ceiling, just missing the gas light and he flipped over, skidding and wobbling on the ceiling as he nearly lost his balance. Mr Dawes finally righted himself upside down and began to tap his foot impatiently waiting for Mr Banks response.

“It, it seems,” Mr Banks stuttered “that I am indeed a-afr-, awake…”   
“About time too. Speaking of which, I’ve wasted enough of mine,” the chairman replied and checked his pocket watch. “May I be permitted to actually get on and give you this dammed warning, Banks?”

Mr Banks couldn’t reply, so merely nodded.

“Right then!” the elder sniffed. “Because you’ve been acted so appallingly but refuse to see what wrong you’ve caused, the fates have decided to send three messengers to you tonight in an attempt to show you the true meaning of Christmas. Are you following this, Banks?”  
“Yes sir, but I just-”

“Good man! Now these three consist of... ” he coughed and began listing them counting them on his fingers “Christmas Past, Christmas Present and Christmas, oh what was it, Christmas…Christmas-”  
“Future, sir?”   
“Don’t interrupt Banks, I nearly had it then. And besides I’m a ghost, I don’t have any future.” Mr Dawes snapped then laughed. “I’ve got it, Christmas Past, Christmas Present and Christmas yet to come. Yes, that’s it! There all coming to visit you and hopefully make you realize where you’ve gone wrong.”

“Now,” he said, checking his watch. “It’s almost a quarter to eleven. The first sprit will be here at eleven o’clock, the next at half past. The third and final sprint will appear at the final stroke of midnight. I want you on time for each, punctual and polite and to treat them all with respect. Is that clear?”

“Y-yes sir,” Mr Banks stumbled. “But where will I meet these um- messengers? How will I know them? And can’t they all come at once?” 

The ghost laughed again and shook his head.

“No more silly questions, Boy. Get some sleep.” the ghost commanded. He gazed across to third floor landing at the nursery door. Mr Banks was sure he heard a window slide open and shut above him somewhere in the house, but he wasn’t sure if he should ever believe his eyes, ears and judgment ever again.

“You haven’t got that long to wait Banks and believe me;” Mr Dawes chuckled. “Judging from what they have planned for you, you are going to need it.”

With that, he faded though the ceiling and disappeared from sight. Mr Banks blinked and rubbed his disbelieving eyes before staggering back to his chair by the fire. His still disbelieving eyes were now feeling extremely heavy, and in moments, Mr Banks had followed his late chairman’s advice. and fell in to a somewhat fitful sleep…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah Ha-hahaha-ha. Originally the beginning was going to be far more serious with Mary Poppins and Bert scaring the living daylights out of Mr Banks, but it worked better with the flour coved fools and the ex-boss. These three need more love! Ellen, Cook and Mr Dawes Senior everybody


	4. The Uncle of Christmas Presents (part one)

Mr Banks awoke with a start. There was no smoke, no insane kitchen staff and certainly, no ghosts. 

He was alone in the parlour, completely alone. the fire crackled warmly, and the snow was still falling outside the window. It took him a moment to work out his surroundings before he relaxed back in to his chair. He did however feel a twinge of nervousness as the clock in the hall chimed eleven. Nothing happened. A minute passed. Then another. And another. Still nothing. Seeing the minute hand now itch onto the ornate number one of the clock face, Mr Banks scoffed, not wanting to admit his relief. 

“A dream...It was just a ridiculous dream.” He sighed, closing his eyes again. “And Christmas ghosts? Bah!”

“Humbug?”

Mr Banks opened his eyes with jolt and nearly screamed in fright. There sat across from him was a fat little be speckled man who he’d never meet. and more importantly, who not been there before. He’d appeared, if Mr Banks believed in such things, almost by magic.

“I-” Mr Banks started. “I beg your pardon?”  
“Humbug.” the man repeated giggling, again offering a little paper bag. “Would you like one? Or a barley sugar? Perhaps a bull’s eye maybe, I’m rather partial to them myself.” *

“You’re not a very good burglar if you stop and offer sweets. Or brake in to houses in your pyjamas.” Banks croaked, still stunned. “How did you get in here?”   
“Oh, that’s easy!” the stranger laughed. “I came In-tru-der the window!” 

“Really?” Banks muttered, turning in his seat to examine the parlour windows looking for signs of forced entry, not entirely sure whether the man was joking with him. “It’s as though you dropped out of the sky.”  
“well, no actually, the ceiling.” the little man said somewhat taken aback. “And I’m not a thief not in the slightest, I‘m a messenger. I know I’m a little late, but I came became I was asked to…”

“Allow me to introduce myself, Mr Banks,” he continued and cleared his throat, before with a deep echoing laugh, he boomed, “I am The Ghost of Christmas Present!”

Like Mr Dawes before him, the man threw his arms wide and began to hover in the air by the ceiling, as though to illustrate his point. Banks gaped at him for a moment then buried his head in his hands.

“I’m dreaming again. There’s no such thing as ghosts,” He muttered trying to compose himself. “people do not just pop up from nowhere and people do not pop up from nowhere in your own house and start offering you sweets and telling bad jokes. I‘m dream, I‘m still dreaming-.” 

“Are you quite alright, dear chap?” 

Banks peeked through his fingers at the ‘ghost‘. He was now floating only a few feet above his seat, looking at Mr Banks with deep concern. He seemed rather a jolly fellow. And yet looking at him, Mr Banks wasn’t quite sure of the gentleman’s age, his young sparkling eyes clashing as much with balding head as the gentleman’s rather crash pyjamas did clash with the dressing gown that covered his tubby little frame.

Mr Banks nodded then realised how silly he must look and sat up straight.  
“Yes yes, I’m fine thank you.” he said, with more confidence then he felt. “But correct me if I’m wrong, only I thought Christmas Past was meant to visit before Present…I mean that’s usually the order events happen in.”

“I know,” The ghost sighed and sank into a chair. Or rather, a few inches above it. “But I’m afraid we’re in a bit of a pickle getting organised in such a short space of time so he’s been delayed. Though I suppose, that’s better than being deceased!”  
With that, he began to raise in to the air again, bobbing about with laughter at his own joke, his night cap nearly slipping off his head. For some reason he had a sprig of holly tucked into the top of it.

“I suppose I’d better get this over with then.” Banks tutted, no longer afraid of what he took to be a floating fool. “Come along then, show me the error of my ways…”

The ghost laughed more so, then realised Banks was quite serious and calmed his hysterics. 

“Oh, must we? I was rather enjoying our little chat. I get ever so lonely sometimes you know…But If we must, we must as they say. This way Mr Banks. ” the ghost sighed, sinking a little so that he nearly scrapped the mantel piece and set off bobbing along the air into the hall. 

“Actually, can you think of something of funny, dear fellow?”   
“Not at this moment in time…” Banks replied, following.  
“Nothing?” the ghost asked; nearly plummeting out the air in shock, before bouncing up like an Indian rubber ball. “Nothing at all?”  
“No. Why?”  
“Oh, no reason.” the gent replied as he floated up wards over the stairs and landed nimbly so he was sat, perching on the banister of the first-floor landing. “I just thought it might be more memorable experience if you could join me up here, but it seems you’ll have to take the conventional route via the stairs.”  
“Must I?”  
“Indeed! Come along now, there’s a good chap.”

“Dear me I know they said you were lacking in Christmas cheer,” Mr Banks heard him mutter as he lit the hall and landing gaslights before he started up the stairs. “But nothing at all rather takes the biscuit. And my jokes aren’t that bad, are they? they make me laugh at least.”

“Can we just get on with this, please?” Mr Banks said. The ghost sighed dramatically again and almost walked across the landing his spirits were so low. He reached out and placed his hand upon the door across from him when Mr Banks stopped him.

“excuse me but what do you think you’re doing?”  
“I do believe I was showing you the error of your ways. That was what you wanted, wasn’t it?”  
“Not particularly.” Banks muttered before voicing his concerns a little louder. “but hold on a moment, sir that’s my wife’s room*…” The ghost nodded opened the door and motioned for Banks to look in.

Mr Banks wondered what his wife would say if she were to see him entering her room followed by a floating stranger in his night clothes. His first thought was it wouldn’t matter as his wife appeared to be curled up asleep under the sheets. His second thought was that sleeping people didn’t tend to cry.

“Winifred?” he whispered. His wife didn’t answer or cease her quiet sobbing. Had he not been in such a gruff temper he would have perhaps worked out what was wrong. But he was so he didn’t.

“Winifred what on earths the matter with you?” Mr Banks asked starting in to the room, but the ghost closed the door in his face, a hand on his shoulder. “Oh, what is it now?!”  
“I was just wondering, dear fellow, just why on earth you came home in such a foul mood tonight?”  
“I am not in a foul mood. The bank is just broken. I was delayed because it took extra work to fix before the morning.” Mr Banks sniffed. It was true. He was certain as a clerk he’d never been so incompetent.

“The is understandable. But why you would choose to take it out on your family? Surly this isn‘t how you pictured Christmas eve-”

the ghost stopped when he saw Mr Banks glaring at him. 

“It is not my fault.” Mr Banks said, “Who is she to let the children stay up so late?”  
“your wife?”  
“No, that Poppins woman. And then dictate the way this household is run and- Hello? Who‘s there?” 

Footsteps from down stairs distracted Banks from his grumbling. 

and the little fat man became very nervous.  
“Oh my.” the ghost flustered as a familiar figure appeared. “I uhm didn’t really expect anyone- I didn’t plan for interruptions-”

“Speak of the devil.” Banks muttered as the supposedly ex-nannie pulled the kitchen door shut behind her and crossed the hall hitching her shirts to climb the stairs. “Mary Poppins what are you doing sneaking about?” The nerve of the woman still parading around his house still in her nurse maids dress no less! Worse the nanny paid him no heed and carried on up the stairs. 

“I’m talking to you. Mary Poppins what is the meaning of this don’t you dare ignore me.“ he said walking alongside her getting more and more agitated. 

The ghost who had momentarily had a stern frown on his face suddenly broke in to a fit of laughter amused by Mr Banks‘ futile attempts. 

“Mary Poppins can’t you hear me-?” Bank’s started, stepping out right in front of her. There was no denying it this time, Mary Poppins could neither see nor hear him. 

In fact, Mary Poppins had walked right though him. 

A very odd sensation. Might have possibly been the squelching sound that did it, but it made his stomach flip and slosh as his knees buckled. The nanny stopped a few feet behind him as if she had indeed heard Mr Banks that time. but she turned looking about, not seeing him. Obviously and Banks was quite glad she couldn’t as he imagined he looked quite sickly and pathetic knelt on the floor like he was. 

Worst of all, his ghostly host seemed to find it hilarious. He was rolling about in laughter by the ceiling and slapping the wall panels.

“Oh, how wonderful! Bless my soul. Well done, bravo bravo!” 

But Mary Poppins saw none of this. so, Mr Banks ignored him and staggered to his feet. The nanny was now frowning. She leant over the banister, looking down to the kitchen, then the parlour then the front door. she looked left right then up to the nursery and behind her heading back down the landing to Winifred’s room. She pressed an ear to the door and knocked lightly. No answer.

“you know I think that went splendidly.” The ghost hooted suddenly having now calmed himself. “But I think Mr Banks it is time we were on our way. We‘re very behind schedule.” 

“where are you taking me?” Banks groaned. “And how? We can hardly call a hackney carriage this time of night.”   
“Carriage smarriage, like this dear fellow like this! But don‘t look down-!”

All of a sudden, the world became a blur as the ghost snatched Mr Banks by the collar and up into the air. His saw the stairs the banister the floor blur beneath him as the ghost pulled him though empty space, his life flashing before his watering eyes, the wind whistling past to up up up and…into a cupboard. 

The linen cupboard, on to the landing, just next to the nursery stairs to be precise. The ghost had simply taken a short route and cut the corner of the spiralling landing by flying across it so as a (once again rather nauseous) Mr Banks suddenly found himself surrounded by fresh sheets and pillow cases.  
“I told you not to look down,” came a voice bobbing somewhere on the ceiling out of site. What is it with people and ceilings, Banks thought recovering from his panic attack. George was about to open the door and attempt an escape when he heard the nanny’s footsteps approach them. It wouldn’t do to suddenly burst disorientated from the cupboard, so he’d have to wait. 

“Mary Poppins?” he heard a yawn above making both him and the nanny jump. Though the crack in the cupboard door he saw Mary Poppins stop at the bottom of the nursery stairs.

“Michael Banks, what on earth are doing out of bed at this late hour?” She hissed. More footsteps. “And you, Jane. An explanation if you please.”  
“I woke up and you weren’t there!” the girl whimpered. Michael yawned again.  
“I’m here now so return to bed.” Mary Poppins said in a stage whisper. “I was sorting something out with Mrs Brill if you must know.”   
“Does this mean you’re staying?!” the children squealed. George heard a patter of feet and thump thump thump as Michael slid down the stairs on his bottom and Jane all but ran down them, both leaping at Mary Poppins with jumped up hugs that would have sent any other nanny onto the floor.

“Will you be here tomorrow?”  
“You’re really not going to leave us are you?”  
“Is there really no such thing as Father Christmas?”  
“Did father say sorry to you?”

Mr Banks was about to say that he had nothing to apologise for but he received a rather solid dig in the ribs from a ghostly slipper clad foot.

“Must you really know everything? Anyone would think you children where nosy, asking so many questions all the time. Bed. Spit spot.“ The nanny said prising them off her and taking each child by the hand lead them away nearly disappearing out of view. but for once the children where resisting.   
“but Mary Poppins-“  
“you didn‘t answer my question-!” 

The nanny stopped, turned and sat on the stairs. At least he thought she did, George could only see her boots and skirt.  
“I don’t need to. You heard your father. And…” she paused. “… I am sorry… but it isn‘t up to me. Tomorrow if you so wish I will get you up, washed, dressed and fed… but then I must go. Ellen and Mrs Brill have kindly volunteered to take care of you two, providing you promise not to runaway of course, will take it in turns between them keeping an eye on you until such times as another nursemaid is hired.“  
“No!”  
“Yes Jane, don‘t shriek so or I shall summon a policeman. And Michael you’ll wear out your sleep suit skidding down the stairs like that.”   
“Good…” the boy mumbled sleepily. “I hate father.”

George Banks froze. 

“Michael-! Don‘t you dare.”  
“Me too.” his sister whispered. “I hate Daddy!”  
“Jane!”  
“But it’s all his f-fault!”   
“I hate him!”  
“Stop it both of you.” the nanny scolded. They did. When the nanny spoke again her tone was firm but kinder. “Now that is far more than enough of that. Jane dry your tears. There is a difference between disappointment and hatred. for example at the moment I’m disappointed in you for saying such nasty things but that can’t be helped. I know you’ve had what at the moment seems a very bad night but that is no excuse for such bad manners. and you should never say things you can’t take back. if it‘s one thing I can‘t stand is hearing my charges something they‘ll later regret.”

“But-”

“Goats butt bee’s buzz and what happens to the spiteful children in your story books who lose their tempers and say wicked things?” The children mumbled their answers “good. Now upstairs. I won‘t have you sleeping though Christmas day because you were up all night.”

“I’m not tired-!”  
“Mary Poppins please can we stay up with you?” Jane pleaded. “I don’t mind if we stay asleep all of tomorrow and don’t get any presents or tea, let’s spend Christmas eve somewhere! Please, just one more outing, we’ll never see you again!”

“Hardly a sensible suggestion, Jane. you’re both in you pyjamas and your brother is nearly asleep- Oh, Mrs Banks!”

“I thought I heard voices.” Mr Banks heard his wife’s bedroom door as it creaked open.  
“My apologies Ma’am.” Mary Poppins said standing up. “We didn’t mean to wake you, did we?”  
“No, sorry mother.” Jane whispered while Michael yawned and mumbled something similar.  
“It’s alright, Mary Poppins.” Mrs Banks said, coming into view. “And she’s right children, it’s far too late to go out into the snow. you’ll catch your deaths.”  
“But-”  
“come on my dears, you can sleep with me tonight if you want.” Winifred smiled, in a way that didn’t meet her sad grey eyes. She offered her hand out them.   
“But-”  
“ Bed and not another word.” The nanny interjected. The children didn’t argue, jane took her mother’s hand and the pair disappeared from view closely followed by Mary Poppins, who was somehow half guiding half carrying a sleepy Michael into the room as only an expert nanny can do, the door shutting behind her, the hall lights dimming as she left.

A few moments later Mr Banks stepped out of the cupboard. He blinked, certain the wetness in his eyes had to be from Trying to adjust his eyes to the increasing darkness. His heart felt heavy too. Must have been something he ate.

The mood was ruined by a loud raspberry noise as the ghost blew his nose loudly into a large hanky chief as he bobbed out of the cupboard. George had quite forgotten he was there.

“Oh how sad.” he wailed dabbing at his eyes turning to Mr Banks, “Christmas is a time for cheer, My fellow. a time for laughter…not tears or raised voices is it? Do you see that now?”  
Mr Banks said nothing. Had he really caused all that grief? Did his children really hate him?  
“If Mary Poppins hadn’t-”  
“Hadn’t what? She is merely there for them even when it‘s you they were waiting up to see. And your wife and children? The rest of staff? I expect you’re going to tell me they ruined your Christmas too?”   
Mr Banks said nothing. He couldn’t argue with that.

“…and it’s getting late. I‘m afraid I have to be going. Goodbye Mr Banks.” the ghost sighed. He stepped over the bannister and begun to sink to the floor looking back at George as he did so. “It‘s all very sad but it’s been an interesting visit…Merry Christmas.”

“Wait!” Mr Banks yelped leaning over the bannister. “aren’t you going to show me tomorrow morning? Isn‘t that what normally happens now?”  
“Oh heavens no.” came the reply, the ghost almost lost in the darkness of downstairs. “tomorrow is not here yet and what isn’t here yet is the future. Too Far out of my league dear fellow.”

The voice faded and George ran down stairs, to catch him stumbling in the gloom but the little man had vanished. 

Mr Banks checked the kitchen and the cellar door. he couldn’t see him and he knew there was no chance the little man could have come up from the floor like a stage production. Defeated, he slumped into the dim pallor and into his favourite chair thinking about everything he’d heard and seen. Was he really so horrid a person his children actually hated him…? No he thought. I’m trying to do what’s best for them.

Singing. 

He thought his imagination was tricking him again. but from upstairs he could defiantly hear singing. a soft song like a lullaby. It was not Winifred’s powerful sweet voice but an unfamiliar siren song, not all comforting to his ears. Alone in the dark it sounded quite sinister. George listened and felt a chill up his spine unaware on the tranquil effect it was having on his family. Despite to words telling him to stay awake, alone and afraid Mr Banks felt his eyelids droop and sank back in to a fitful sleep…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *sorry not sorry for Uncle Albert’s sweet addition, I just wanted to work in the traditional ‘Bah humbug’ line.
> 
> ** Most married couples in them days had a joining rooms…I’m glad they did because Mr Banks telling the ghost “oi that’s my room, keep out” sounded rather silly.


	5. The Uncle of Christmas Presents (part two)

The ‘Ghost’ waited in the shadows behind a curtain (where he was quite surprised, he hadn’t been discovered) until he heard snoring from the parlor. Then he slipped though the kitchen and out the unlocked backdoor. It was only when the door closed behind did, he dare blow his nose. 

“How very sad.” He moaned. But Remembering the look Mr Bank’s face when he’d been ghosted caused the ghost to smile. And then he allowed himself a chuckle. Then a snigger. And then a full hearty laugh. Just as his bare feet slipped out of his slippers began to leave the floor, an upstairs window slid open with a snap.

“Uncle Albert don’t you dare.” A voice hissed down at him. “get your boots on at once!”  
“I’m sorry, my dear,” he chortled as quietly as he could. “I just can’t help myself.” 

The sight of his niece half leaning out of the window didn’t really help either, but Mary Poppins however was not amused.  
“You know what will happen,” she warned, gesturing at the heavy shoes she placed for him on the back step along with a thick coat and gloves. “And I for one am not spending another Christmas trying to drag you out of the clouds in time for pudding.”

At this Albert began to laugh even louder, making it even harder for him to put his boots on. His niece sighed and pulled him up into air and parked him into the tree outside the bedroom window. Under Mary Poppins’ glare Albert found his laughter subside somewhat as she sat him down gently on a branch, wrapped up warm again the cold.

“How did it go?” She asked as his deep-sea boots’ laces tied themselves.  
“Rather well I say, my dear. Not that I needed to do anything really.”  
“Uncle I thought you were wonderful. We couldn’t have done it without you.”  
“Thank you my dear but he did it himself really. Mr Banks might be a sour puss but he’s smart. I think he’s realized he’s upset the children. But my my you where the one keeping him quiet Mary Poppins. And nice improvising on your part by the way if I might say so. Such a wonderful use of your talents-” He received a look. “Oh, I know, but it‘s good for you to step out of your comfort zone occasionally and it‘s not like you use it for conjuring or breaking and entry. I don’t know how you managed to keep a straight face!”

“Quite easily after tonight.” Mary Poppins sighed. Her gaze shifted to inside the room. “I think the credit ort to go to the children and Mrs Banks.”  
“How are they, poor dears?” Albert asked.  
“Asleep. All three tucked up safe and sound in the double bed with Michel hogging the covers. I had to use- well you heard but no matter. They’ll be well rested all three of them and it frees up the nursery for me quite nicely.” The nanny said with a fleeting smile. “any sign of Bert yet or is he still setting up?”  
“I’ve seen his friends, but not him my dear so I suppose he’s still working on his master piece.”

“and taking an awful long time about it. I thought I was the practically perfect one!” Mary Poppins huffed. “still He is an artist I suppose. Oh dear. I‘ll be with you in a moment.”  
She disappeared from view back into the room for a minute, the window closing behind her and the muffled sound of other doors opening and closing. Albert thought it sad to see her go and stepped out of the tree landing with nothing but soft crunch in the snow. An even softer crunch behind told him his niece had returned now in her coat hat, gloves and of course her umbrella amongst other things.  
“here, hold this will you?” She asked handing him the brolly with the snoring parrot handle and a large heavy paper bag. “I found it on the kitchen table. Its half gone but it might add a bit of dramatic effect.”  
“Jolly good, I’m sure Bert will love it!” He grinned as she wrapped the scarf about her neck. “What was up with those two anyway?“

“I haven’t the foggiest. But I‘ve sorted out the kitchen for tomorrow, as well as a backup plan should we…well fail.” (The word was not one the nanny would normal use.)  
“I heard from Bert what Mr Banks had said to you.” Uncle Albert said sadly. “Mary, my dear you’re certain that-”  
“No one is so hard to tech as a man who knows everything. Come along,” she said taking the umbrella and his free hand. “We’ll help get Bert started with his part then I’ll take you home.”  
In a moment, the umbrella (with a little protest about the time of night) was opened and their feet left the snow behind.

“If lucks on our side, on the way I might get a chance to have a word with Andrew…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and thats as far as we've gotten so far. thanks for reading


End file.
